


Day Forty

by TheLittleRedWhoCouldWrite



Series: 30+ Days of TFW Imagines [40]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Female!Reader - Freeform, Hurt/Comfort, Naked Cuddling, Nudity, Reader-Insert, Worried Sam, depressed!reader, non-sexual nudity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-28
Updated: 2015-12-28
Packaged: 2018-05-09 21:40:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5556509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLittleRedWhoCouldWrite/pseuds/TheLittleRedWhoCouldWrite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: Imagine being in a depressed state and not taking care of yourself until Sam forces you to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Day Forty

You know as soon as you wake up: today is one of those days. You feel ill and your whole body aches, and you're already crying for no good reason. Already off to a terrible start.

You barely manage to reach over and whack your alarm clock to turn it off before you pull the covers over your head. You’re not leaving this bed today. You simply can't.

XXXXXX

Sam knows something’s wrong as soon as he enters the Bunker. You’re not there to greet him.

“Y/N?” he calls, leaving his duffel on one of the library tables. “Babe?”

“Where is she?” Dean asks, flopping into a chair.

“I don't know. It’s only five in the evening, so she can't be sleeping, unless…” realization hits him. “Well, shit.”

“What?”

“Her depression.”

“Son of a bitch.”

XXXXXX

Due to your hunter lifestyle, it's difficult to find suitable help for your depression. With Sam's help, you visit a doctor whenever possible to get updated prescriptions, but sometimes you’ll end up going far longer than you should between appointments and, unfortunately, you run out of your medications far too often. Meaning serious episodes are an all too common occurrence. You haven't had one in almost eight months, though.

Looks like your luck just ran out.

XXXXXX

The door creaks a little when Sam pushes it open. “Y/N?” he says.

You’re clearly in bed, but you don't respond. He wasn't really expecting you to. He sits on the edge of the bed.

“Have you moved at all?” he asks, keeping his voice low and gentle.

Your silence is all the answer he needs.

Sam nods to himself. “I’ll be right back.”

He shoots Dean a text asking him to cut up a bowl of fruit and hurries to the bathroom, where he starts the tub filling. He throws in your favorite bath salt and the little rubber duck you love so much. Then he returns to your side. You haven't moved.

“Come on,” he says, pulling back the blankets.

You whine and blink up at him with tear-swollen eyes. When he slips his arms under your shoulders and knees, you cling to his shirt and bury your face in his chest.

“I’m here,” he assures you. “I’ve got you, darlin’.” He layers on a little of that Texas drawl he’s somehow picked up over the years. Usually it would send a shiver of pleasure through you, but right now you remain still in the cradle of his arms as he carries you to the bathroom.

The tub is done filling by this point, so he turns sits you on the closed toilet and turns off the water before focusing on you. He carefully lifts your arms to remove your shirt. Your breasts bounce a little as your arms fall and your nipples tighten against the cool air. You stare blankly as he works off your sweats and panties, leaving you naked and shivering on the cold porcelain.

He quickly pulls you into his arms. You seem so much smaller, all of your big personality trapped beneath the torrent of pain and emotions. He knows he can help you come back to him. It’s just going to take some time.

“Alright, in you go,” he says, lifting you into the tub. Once he's sure you won't slip or something and fall under the water, he steps back and strips out of his own clothes. He tosses them into the hamper and joins you in the water. You fit perfectly between his thighs, tucked up against his chest. He’s once again really grateful to Dean for helping him install this massive tub. It makes days like these so much easier.

He grabs the cup he keeps in the bathroom for this very reason and begins scooping water, pouring it over your head to wet your hair. He gently tips your head back so he doesn't get water in your eyes, even though they’ve fallen shut. Once he's finished wetting your hair, he pops open your shampoo and pours some on your head. He rubs it in, massaging your scalp as he does so, and then uses the cup to rinse it out. He repeats this process with the conditioner, all he while keeping up a steady stream of soothing words.

After rinsing your hair again, he settles back against the side of the tub and holds you close.

“The hunt wasn't too bad,” he says. “We would’ve been back sooner if Dean hadn't somehow skipped over the fact that the ghost changed their name before they died and that it wasn't the name we thought it was on the stone.” He knows you would be laughing if he'd told you this story at any other time. “I’m sorry I wasn't here. If I had been, we might've been able to head this off before it got so bad.” he sighs, trailing his fingertips over your stomach and thighs. It’s not a sexual touch. You have no desire for sex when things get this bad. No, the touch is merely meant to reassure and sooth. “No use bemoaning what could have been. We’re just going to do our best with what we have. Right?”

In response, you twist so you can tuck your nose up under his chin. He smiles, one hand on your thigh and the other coming up to gently cup one soft breast. A tender reminder of everything you need to know. The movements have sent ripples through the water and the rubber duck has drifted closer to bounce off the breast Sam isn’t holding.

The water is growing cold by the time you finally open your eyes. You blink up at him.

“S’mmy,” you mumble.

“I’m here,” he tells you. “I’m not going anywhere. Come on, let's get out. The water’s cold.”

You nod and he helps you out of the tub. He quickly dries both you and him before he guides you back to bed. He sits you on your desk chair while he changes the sheets and blankets for the clean set you keep in one of your dresser drawers. Once the clean sheets are in place, he scoops you up and lays you on the bed. He checks outside the door and finds a bowl of fruit- apple slices, strawberries, and grapes. He can see from the funny dimples that cover the skin of each apple slice that Dean found your secret stash of Pink Lady apples, your favorite.

You groan when you see the fruit. “Sammy-”

“You’re eating, Y/N,” Sam says firmly. He sets the bowl on the nightstand and climbs into bed beside you, his naked skin pressed against yours.

“Don’t feel good,” you whine.

“I know. That's why I chose fruit. They’re less likely to upset your stomach.” He tucks you against his side and selects a smaller apple slice from the bowl. “How about a game. For each piece you eat, you'll get something you ask from me. Deal?”

“I guess,” you sigh, breath warm on his chest.

“Alright.” He holds the apple to your lips. “Eat.”

You eat the apple in small bites. When you’re finished, Sam has you suck the juice from his fingers- partially because he forgot to ask Dean for napkins, but partially to stall.

“Tell me a secret,” you say when he removes his fingers from your mouth.

“I love you.”

You roll your eyes, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. “That’s no secret.”

“Hmmm. I suppose you're right. How about this: I would do anything to protect you. Like that Tim McGraw song, _Don't Take the Girl_. I would do whatever it took if it meant you would be safe.”

You seem more than a little surprised to learn this, though your reaction is subdued. “Really?”

“Really.” He presses a kiss to your forehead. “I love you that much.”

You takes this in, and then open your mouth in expectation. Sam smiles and pops a grape between your lips. You’re nowhere near back to normal, but it’s a start and that's what he was hoping for. He’ll make some calls while you sleep and figure out how to get you in to see a doctor. While he certainly knows how to help, he wants the best for you and, as he just said, he’ll do whatever it takes.


End file.
